


Complications

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Friendship, Romance, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2004-06-17
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Potter never died the night of October 31, 1981. Harry, however, wishes that he had. How did he come to live? What has happened?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Complications

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

by Vixenette

"Harry."

Blinking sleep from his eyes and sitting up, Harry Potter reached around on the side of his bed for his glasses. Finding them, he saw Ron Weasley grinning at him from the next bed over. "Wazzamatter?"

Ron just laughed. "It's almost time for Divination. We're doing crow entrails today, remember?"

Harry sighed as he got up and looked around for his shower bucket, still half asleep. "Yeah, we don't want to miss crow entrails. I'd like to know what I'm looking at every time I cut up a dead black bird."

"If you hurry, we'll get to the Great Hall for the end of breakfast," Ron commented, ignoring Harry's sarcasm. "I'm starving!"

"Why don't you just go on?" Harry looked over his shoulder at his friend on the way to the bathroom. "I'll meet you at class. I'm not very hungry this morning."

If Ron's stomach wasn't so demanding, he probably would have noticed the dark circles under Harry's eyes, and the way the dark-haired boy drooped as he walked, slouching his shoulders. He probably would have asked Harry what was wrong.

Instead, he just smiled on his way to the door. "Okay, then. See you!" And he went with a wave.

Harry took his shower rather fast, but it seemed as if he were sleepwalking. He yawned as he turned the water off, stepping out onto the tiles and wrapping himself in the warmed towel on the rack. Drying himself, he dressed with his eyes closed the entire time, and entered the Seventh Year dorm again.

Hedwig, with a light trail of downy white feathers falling softly behind her, sailed into the open window. She had another owl with her, a brown one that Harry didn't recognize, and between the two of them, they were carrying a large box. Curious, he walked over to where the owls had dropped the package onto his bed.

"Who's that from, Hedwig?" Harry let his owl nip his finger lightly, and watched as she followed the other owl back out the window, probably to make their way to the Owlery. He ran his fingers over the box, and then lifted it up. It was heavy, something inside of it so large that it took up the entire inside of the box. A piece of paper stuck out from the small opening in the top. He reached for it, noting his name written on the outside, and opened it up.

Harry,

This is a Pensieve, which is a collection of memories from the one who wishes to put them in it. You can touch any part of your skin to the surface of the liquid, and you will find yourself IN the memories of the Pensieve's owner. To get out, you simply will yourself upwards. I hope you will find these memories that I have included helpful in your dream to know more about the truth behind your past and your mother's death.

I have never stopped loving you, Harry. I regret all that has happened. I want you to know the truth.

It was unsigned, but Harry felt suddenly alert and completely awake, a tendril of dread forming in his stomach. He didn't want to know the contents of the Pensieve. He knew who had sent this to him, and he wanted nothing to do with it. Feeling ill, he shoved the heavy box under his bed, and he ignored the wave of nausea that rose in his throat as the thought briefly about the owner of the memories. He forced himself to think about Quidditch, the upcoming Potions test, the way Cho Chang had looked at the end of the school year, right before her own graduation, her smile wide and her straight, shiny black hair pulled elegantly into a twist. As his mind wandered, he started the trek down the stairs to his first class of the day.

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~**

It was one of those days where every minute of the second hand of Harry's watch seemed to last a lifetime. His mind kept slipping back to that damnable box under his bed, and the note that had come with it. He was told by Trelawney and even Hagrid that he wasn't paying attention, and Harry knew that he would never get through the day without seeing what the Pensieve was all about. Excusing himself to Ron and Hermione right before Charms (earning a stern look from the latter and a concerned look from the former), he hurried up to the dorms and shut himself up in his room.

Reaching under his bed, Harry brought the box out and opened it, taking out a blue, earthenware bowl. The truth. That's what the note had said that this bowl contained. Fighting down his fear of what this could mean, Harry leaned forward and dipped his finger in the swirling silvery liquid.

\---------------------------

A laugh. Peter Pettigrew, his gray eyes lighting up with delight as he watched a young Remus Lupin Transfigure a light brown cat into a chicken, his wand held high for show.

"There, Peter," the werewolf and Harry's former teacher was saying with a slight smile, "chickens don't chase rats, as well you know."

"One down, and about seventy-six more to go, then," drawled the voice of Sirius Black, coming from the corner of the scene, which was exactly the same as the present Gryffindor Common Room of Harry's time. "You going to catch them all, Remus?"

A wave of a hand and a shifting of motion-the memory's owner was moving. Remus looked straight at him. "What do you think, James? Moony the Feline-Chaser?"

A snort from Sirius. "It's the only Chasing you're likely to be good at." Remus actually looked hurt.

Throat clearing, and suddenly James Potter was speaking from Harry's point of view. "Actually, seventy-five cats are left. I don't think McGonagall counts. Unless she chases after rodents, too..."

Laughter from the four boys at the thought.

\------------------------------------------

Charred remains of a small house. The two houses next to it were untouched. Lily Potter, her brilliant red hair streaming down her back, looked straight at him.

"Oh, James," she sighed, her eyes filled with tears. "Why does he keep hunting us?"

\------------------------------------------

Arms came into view, holding a tiny, wriggling baby in them. A voice from the owner of the arms. "Little Harry. I vow, son, to protect you."

Lily was sitting in a bed. White sheets made her look paler than normal, but she was smiling. "And I vow to protect both of you," she said.

"No, Lily," Sirius stepped closer to where baby Harry was being held. "I vow to protect all three of you. Voldemort will never get you. I won't let him. As long as I draw breath, I will NOT see either of you harmed."

\------------------------------------------

"It's someone you trust, James," Dumbledore was saying. "Someone who knows your every move. Who have you told?"

"No. NO! Only Sirius and Remus and Peter know, besides you. Lily and I have been moving frequently. I can't let anything happen to Harry, Albus. But to not trust my closest friends...they're all I have, outside of my family. They would never betray me!"

\------------------------------------------

"It's obvious, Sirius. I trust you more than anyone else, and you know it."

Sirius shook his head, his eyes troubled. "No, James, I just think that I'm too obvious of a choice. Pick Remus or Peter! Please! I'll lead them away, so they'll suspect me."

"No, Sirius." A firm hand appeared on Sirius' shoulder. "You have to be our Secret Keeper. There's no one I trust more completely than you."

A pause, and then a nod. "Alright. Alright, James. Just...tell me when. I'll do it. If it's your wish..."

\-----------------------------------------

"No. NO!" A fist pounded against the wall in front. "NOOO!!"

It was dark, the only light coming from a sliver of moonlight through a window high up. Barty Crouch Sr. was on the other side of the bars, smirking.

"Think you'd get away with it, did you? Upset that your Dark Lord is gone?" Crouch shook his head, staring into the cell. "You'll rot forever here, Potter, for what you did. Betraying your family to You-Know-Who. You will go mad in time."

"I didn't...Sirius...I trusted...he was the Secret Keeper...ask Dumbledore...Sirius..."

A snort. "Yes, you two made a...er...NICE team, there. Evidence is against you, Potter. Two Killing Curses found as the last two spells from your wand. Can't argue with that."

Crouch leaned in close, his eyes feral. "I hope you rot in here, Potter."

\---------------------------------------------

Harry had enough. He willed himself out of the memories and promptly took the bowl to the sink in the bathroom, pouring the silvery substance down the drain, and then washing it out with a brush, not touching any of it with his skin.

He couldn't believe that HE had the audacity to send him the Pensieve. Did HE think that Harry would feel sympathetic? That Harry would somehow shift his hate and blame onto Sirius? No, Sirius had never come outright and told Harry what had happened, exactly, but the truth was like a nugget fully lodged in Harry's stomach. He knew that Sirius was innocent. There was no reason for his godfather to have lied for four years straight. Sirius had told him about the switch of Secret Keepers at the end to Pettigrew, and what had happened in the Shrieking Shack back in Third Year had confirmed that. If Sirius had been the one who had betrayed his family, then why wouldn't the older man have finished Harry off? Handed The-Boy-Who-Lived over to Voldemort?

No, HE was just trying to trick him. Putting false memories in the Pensieve or something. He didn't know if it was possible to put false memories into a Pensieve, for he had never asked Dumbledore, but Harry was SURE that what the Pensieve had shown him had not been real. Sirius would have never betrayed him. Harry considered him the father he never had now.

Placing the empty bowl back under his bed, Harry curled up under his covers and tried to catch up on his sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

~~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

Two nights later, Harry couldn't sleep again. His lessons seemed to be slipping from his memory, and he found that he wasn't retaining anything that he had learned within the past few weeks. Ever since the Daily Prophet came out with a surprise news article, one that set the whole of Hogwarts talking, causing everyone to look at him out of the corner of their eyes.

A second escapee from Azkaban. The first, Sirius Black, had not been found, yet. For that, of course, Harry was glad. But this second escapee...

Annoyed by his inability to fall asleep, Harry put on his nighttime robes and went downstairs to the Common Room, falling very ungracefully onto the couch in front of the fire. He heard a crinkling sound, and remembered that these were the same robes he was wearing the last time him and Ron went to sneak food from the kitchens awhile ago.

The Marauder's Map was pulled out of his pocket, and Harry stared at the blankness. He pulled out his wand and tapped it. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Lines lit across the parchment, and Harry followed them with his eyes, catching names in certain rooms. Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode in the Trophy Room. Severus Snape slowly moving down a corridor in the dungeons.

And...

Harry stared in disbelief. It couldn't be...

With surprising swiftness for one who had gotten perhaps three hours sleep in the past week, Harry tore up to his room, dug around in his trunk for his Invisibility Cloak, and braced himself for what he would face as he checked the Map again, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Confirming his past realization, he hurried back downstairs, and out past the Fat Lady.

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

The corridor was eerily silent, the torches on the walls holding flickering flames that cast orange glows onto the ceiling and walls. Shadows seemed to move, and a faint sound of ghostly laughter rang out from somewhere floors below.

Probably just Peeves, thought Harry. He gathered his Invisibility Cloak more securely around his thin frame as he crept ahead, his destination clear in his mind. He had been waiting for this moment, this confrontation, for about four years, but especially for the past two days.

The wrinkled, aged piece of parchment was secured tightly in his right hand, his left clutching the front of the cloak. He wanted to look at it one more time, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things, but he knew that his eyes were not lying. Thirteen times of checking the parchment in the last ten minutes of walking meant only one thing-the person was definitely in the castle. More specifically, the person was in the Order of the Phoenix's meeting room, which can only be accessed from the mirror in the room behind the Great Hall.

Harry hurried, though. He didn't want to miss this opportunity to finally do what he had wanted to do since December of 1993. He wanted to hunt down the person that had changed his life forever.

He wanted to catch the person, and make them pay for their crime.

Twelve years in Azkaban is better than he deserved, thought Harry viciously as he turned the corner. He should have been Kissed. He should have died, at the very least. Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice what was right in front of him.

A wet rag (which smelled rather moldy-it might have been one of Filch's dust rags) hit him in the face, and Harry looked up, startled. Peeves, an annoying poltergeist that caused trouble for everyone in Hogwarts, was floating about ten feet away, peering in Harry's direction with a maniacal grin and another wet rag in his hand.

"I can hear you!" Peeves cackled. "I can't see you, so you must be a student out of bed. Oooh, once I tell Snape on you..." He laughed and threw the other wet rag, but Harry dodged it. "I can hear you breathing! That first rag hit something, so I know you're there!"

Harry did the only thing that he could have-he tried a trick that he had used before. "Peeves, the Bloody Baron has business to attend to tonight, and does not wish to be seen." His voice, which had lowered considerably since the last time he had tried the ruse six years ago, effectively copied the rusty voice used by the most feared ghost of Hogwarts.

Peeves paused, and then started backing away. "Mr. Bloody Baron, sir. Of course, of course. I'll be going down to the 2nd floor if you need me." He vanished through the floor, and Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Halfway wishing he had awoken Ron, or even Hermione, Harry set off once again for his destination. He reached the Great Hall and paused in the middle to stare up at the night sky, the full moon brightening up the tops of the long tables. He briefly wondered where Remus Lupin was now, and whether or not he still had access to the Wolfsbane Potion that Snape had made for him years back to help him to keep his mind when he transformed.

His footfalls echoed around the huge room, making it sound like there was more than one person walking. Harry turned his head to look behind himself quickly, but he found no one. Of course, if someone else had an Invisibility Cloak...

Chalking it up to nerves, Harry hurried. He came to the door behind one of the staff tables, grabbing the old, gold-plated doorknob and twisting it slowly. Silently. He didn't want anyone to hear, after all. It opened about two feet, and Harry pushed his head through the door. No one was in the room, but a fire blazed in the fireplace, warming even the space in which Harry crept through the door. Shutting it behind him, he crossed quickly to the other side of the room, standing in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the wall.

His eyes reflected the orange glow from the fire in the mirror. Black eyelashes framed his large eyes, and his round, black-framed glasses were sliding a little down his small, thin nose, because his face was sweating from the heat of the fire. Reaching up with small hands, he pushed the glasses back up his nose with long, skinny fingers.

Harry stared at him face longer, and couldn't help but sneer, his thin top lip curling upwards on the right side. Everyone had always told him that he looked like his father when he first came to Hogwarts, all those years ago. But the past 3 years, it was just the way that all of the teachers and old friends of his dad's LOOKED at him that told him, but no one said anything, because they knew that he knew about...HIM.

He hadn't shaved that morning, and it showed, casting a rough shadow over his upper lip and his jaw. Hermione had told him, once, that he looked best when clean-shaven, and he had taken that advice to heart, shaving diligently every morning in the mirror next to Ron. But this morning, he had woken up late again, and barely had enough time to get to Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall frowning at him as he took his seat, Ron giving him a sympathetic look and Hermione an exasperated one, as if he had been late on purpose.

Harry shook the thoughts out of his mind as he put his hand up to the mirror, and touched it gently. His hair, shaggy and sticking up in places as always, fell forward into his eyes, and he brushed it back with his other hand impatiently. I'm going to cut it soon, he thought to himself, but he said that often, and he never did. It always stayed the length that it was, too, for Dumbledore had told him that wizards could control things like growth of hair and fingernails, and if Harry unconsciously didn't want his hair to grow, then it wouldn't. (But Dumbledore had also made it clear that no wizard could make things UNgrow.)

"Raspberry Sugar Quills," he murmured quietly, and pushed his way through the mirror. He couldn't afford to stand about, staring at his hated reflection, when he could be catching and doing away with the one person that had ruined the whole of his life. The mirror worked a little like a port key, with a jerk behind his navel bringing him to a small room filled with tables and chairs, and a podium at the front of the room.

In the chair at the front sat...HIM. The person sat, staring at him without fear or anger, even though Harry was filled with passionate hatred all of a sudden.

"I knew you would come," the person said, and stood quietly. Harry found himself noting the differences, and not the similarities, between them. The other person's hair had grown out, tangled and disheveled, streaked with bits of gray. Though Harry knew that he was skinny, this other person was even skinnier, the bones of his face jutting out to make it look like he was a skeleton instead of a living man. The glasses on the other person's face were gold-rimmed, bent in some places. The eyes were brown.

Those, though, were the only differences. Everything else was the same, from the color of the hair (minus the gray) to the long, skinny fingers to the shape of the nose and jaw to the ears that jutted out just a tiny bit.

"Harry," said the person. Harry just stared in anger, not wanting to acknowledge the person in front of him, but also not wanting to listen to what he had to say.

"Don't speak, James," he found the words spitting out of his mouth. He would NOT call this person "Father" or "Dad". He would not call this person something that defined a loving relationship.

James Potter stepped closer, but stopped when Harry raised his wand and pointed it directly at his heart. "Harry, you need to listen to me. Please-"

"You say another word, and I will KILL you," Harry interrupted. His green eyes flashed, and his teeth were grinding together, but his wand hand was as steady as it had ever been.

James fell silent, but he tried to convey the hurt that he felt in his heart to his eyes, so that his son could see. Harry, however, was not interested in seeing anything but the fact that the man before him was a murderer, a traitor, and the cause of ruin in Harry's life.

"Sit back in that chair," said Harry suddenly, and James complied, feeling an ache in his knees. He watched his son shake slightly, and if looks could kill, James would be a thousand times dead, he knew. It hurt that his only son felt this way about him, but he had no chance until now to tell Harry the truth. "Did you get the Pensieve I sent you?"

"I said shut up!" said Harry venomously, clenching his teeth tighter together in anger. He thought briefly of the heavy bowl of memories that he had received two days ago, filled with the past, of old school friends and laughing and love and betrayal.

And Harry hated this man, his biological FATHER, even more now that he did before he had received the Pensieve. Sirius had never really told him the whole story, but Harry knew enough. He knew what had happened on the night of October 31, 1981. He knew that his father had betrayed his mother and himself. Trying to pin the blame on Sirius was not going to convince Harry.

A sound came from the mirror through which Harry had come, and he flew around, pointing his wand, just as a hand appeared through it. James sprang up from the chair he was in to duck behind the podium, and Harry twirled back around to fire a spell his way. "Farnacula!" The red light from the spell spilled from his wand towards the podium, and suddenly, Harry himself was falling backwards, an arm around his middle causing him to miss the intended target and fly to the ceiling, leaving a scorched hole. He fell back on another body, the one that had come through the mirror, and Harry looked forward to see James standing in front of the podium, unafraid, pointing his own wand now at Harry.

"Now it ends," James Potter croaked, his voice almost broken by what he had to endure for the past 16 years. "You will finally pay for what you've done!"

His wand still pointed, he muttered a curse through his bare teeth, "Avada Ked..."


	2. Chapter 2

March 1976-The Marauders' Sixth Year

\----------------------------------------------------

Peter Pettigrew watched. He watched as two heads full of dark hair swung in close to each other, as two pairs of eyes met, as matching grins on each face lit up the Common Room. He didn't notice that he was staring-only that he was glad he had his camera.

CLICK.

Sirius blinked and looked up. "Peter, damn you! You caught me on the wrong side! Everyone knows my good side is my left!" He smirked. "And James is having a bad hair day again!"

"Bugger off, prat!" James hit Sirius in the arm, causing a yelp of mock pain, and straightened up, moving away from his friend. They had been discussing a certain girl that James had been eyeing, and whether or not she was going to be at the next Quidditch match, for she had missed the last two due to reasons unknown. If James was going to impress her with his athletic prowess, he needed her to BE there.

Peter smiled and grinned at the two of them, but inside, he seethed. They thought he didn't KNOW about James' obsession with Lily Evans. He kept a sneer from showing on his thick lips, and pushed his limp blond hair from his gray eyes. They thought their little 'best-friends only' secret was safe from everyone, including Peter and Remus, but they were wrong.

At that moment, Remus Lupin himself appeared in the portrait hole, his robes folded over one arm and his tie loosened around his neck. In his other arm, he carried a book. His face was twisted in a scowl. "Sirius, you bastard!! I need to speak with you!" His voice, usually soft and low, took on a higher pitch when he was angry or excited. His amber eyes landed on the intended target, who was trying to actually hide behind James at the sight of his lycanthropic friend.

"Remus, old boy. Why the angry look?" Sirius grinned that grin again, the one that usually set girls sighing and teachers relaxing.

It never worked on Remus.

Loping over with grace that didn't belong on a tall, gangly body such as his, Remus reached the space in front of James and Sirius and shoved a book in front of the handsome face of the latter. "I let you borrow my Arithmancy book for ONE LOUSY DAY, and you MARK in it!" He flipped it open to page 63, where it showed lopsided drawings of animals in the margins. What could have passed for a horse was galloping across the bottom of the page, and some type of bird flapped its wings in the corner.

"Say, Sirius, that's a nice turkey..." James began, his eyes wide and his mouth twitching, trying not to laugh.

Sirius sighed and rolled his eyes, taking the book from Remus and pointing at the bird. "THAT, my friend, is a mockingbird." He tried not to look up at the fuming teenager in front of him as he met James' eyes and shrugged. "Maybe old Dumbledore should think about adding in some art classes, and get rid of some of these nonsense subjects."

"Like Potions..." Peter murmured, and felt himself swell with a little pride as Sirius pointed at him, face lit up, and grinned again.

"Exactly, Peter! Like Potions! I mean, do we REALLY need to know what powdered root of asphodel is supposed to do to a Love Potion?" Sirius paused, wondering if he should push further. He decided to. "Or Arithmancy. What a useless subject THAT is. I mean, isn't Art so much more fulfilling?"

"Or Music," James commented. "And there's no powdered root of asphodel in Love Potions, you wanker." Sirius made a rude gesture at him, not looking at Remus.

Peter snuck a glance at Remus' face and sniggered. He usually felt kind of bad when Sirius got on one of his teasing sprees, because they most often involved the person who took them the worst. Remus, as predicted, looked as if his face was about to explode, his eyes bulging in rage.

But Sirius seemed to know, sometimes, when to stop. He took a deep breath, told himself to relax, and stood up, facing Remus. "Sorry, chap, we're just playing with you. I'll just erase these, and your book will be good as new." He took the book back from James. "Okay?"

Remus huffed and threw himself down in the free armchair. His hair, getting slightly long, fell into a curtain in front of his eyes, but he didn't bother pushing it back. Instead, he just glared at Sirius through the strands.

"You know, Moony, I bet you'd be a smash with your hair done like this," James commented, pointing at his own hair and glancing sideways at his friend.

Sirius smirked, and Peter found himself laughing outright. "You don't DO your hair, James," he said breathlessly. "You just get out of bed and go to class. Do you even own a comb?"

"He got you there!" Sirius chuckled as he reached out to tousle James' hair, which had the unfortunate tendency to always stand up near the back. James scowled at him and pushed his hand away.

Sirius laughed again and finished erasing the drawings from Remus' book with a spell, handing it back to the owner. Remus took it, still looking at him.

"What?" Sirius asked. "I fixed it, didn't I?" Remus just rolled his eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me, young man. Cocky son of a bitch, aren't you?"

Remus couldn't help but laugh a little. "Yes, yes, I know. Sorry I'm such a bad influence on you, Saint Sirius." He looked around the Common Room, the light from the fireplace making his eyes glow orange. "I'm hungry. Who's up for a kitchen raid?"

"Not me," James groaned. He spread himself out along the couch that him and Sirius were sharing, knocking the other boy in the ribs with one of his boots, and causing an offended squawk. "I'm about ready for bed. Test in Potions, tomorrow, you know. I don't think that Professor Tiggins would appreciate me falling asleep in the middle of it."

Sirius pushed at James' leg. "I'll go, Remus. They might have some of those chocolate éclairs that we had the other night..."

"Bring one back for me, if they do," Peter piped up. "I've got to finish that damnable essay for History of Magic. I swear Binns has it out for me."

"He doesn't even know who you are!" James laughed.

"Yeah," said Sirius, "he even calls you Mr. Pandafinee."

Remus nudged Sirius. "Come on, let's go before I eat YOU. Peter, I'll bring you back something, okay?" He ignored Sirius' leer as he smiled at Peter before turning and heading to the portrait hole.

"Did he just say he was going to eat me?" Sirius mused out loud. James snickered.

"I do believe he did, Padfoot."

Sirius smiled as he stared at the portrait hole. "Well, then, what am I standing around here for with you two?" He followed his werewolf friend out of the Common Room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heaven on earth-that's what chocolate was. Sirius savored the smooth, sweet taste on his tongue as he sighed, his eyes closed. He swallowed the last bit of the third éclair he had eaten, and raised his hand up to lick his fingers.

More chocolate. He was undeniably the happiest man in the world. No one made better chocolate éclairs, not even his mother, who had once won first place in a cooking contest for 'Alia Black's Famous Fig Tarts'. She had won 200 galleons, and she had taken Sirius to the London Zoo, allowing him to buy as many ice cream pops as he wanted that day.

But 'bless her,' he thought. 'She's no Hogwarts house elf.'

He opened his eyes to find a pair of amber ones burning into his face. Sirius returned the stare, but Remus, sitting across the table from him, seemed to be looking through him, and not at him.

"You can have a lick, too, if you'd like," Sirius allowed himself to drawl, startling Remus out of his musings.

"What?"

Sirius bit back a chuckle, and looked Remus in the eye. "You heard me."

The other boy just shook his head. "No, I didn't. I was thinking about something else, and I guess I must have spaced out or something. What did you say?"

"Nothing important, Space Boy." Sirius ignored the irritated huff from his friend as he stood, running his hands across his gray trouser-clad lap to get the crumbs off. "Look, I got some chocolate on my shirt." He pointed to the dark brown spot marring the brilliant white on his chest.

"If you didn't inhale your food, you'd probably avoid disasters like that one," Remus commented lightly, smirking. "I didn't get even a speck on my clothes."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Not a one. My clothes are perfect. Look, my shirt's not even wrinkled at the bottom where I had it tucked in earlier."

Sirius gazed at the bottom of Remus' shirt. Indeed, it was smooth and pressed. He briefly wondered how Remus could always make the school uniform look so casual, even when wearing the pressed robes over it and the tie straightened and tight. Sirius himself always looked like an uptight arse when he tied his own tie. In fact, the only time Sirius could look casual while wearing the damnable clothes was when he purposely wrinkled and stained his shirt and trousers.

"Let's go, Oh Perfect One. Can't let the night air wrinkle your precious pressed shirt."

Remus smiled and followed Sirius out of the kitchens, thanking the elves, two of the chocolate éclairs wrapped in napkins for James and Peter. The quiet of the castle pressed in around them as they walked down the corridor.

Rounding a corner, Remus almost dropped the éclairs as he rammed into Sirius, who was stopped. A hand came up over his mouth, and Remus paused, looking questioningly at the other boy.

He almost didn't hear what was said as Sirius leaned in close, hot breath in his ear. "Snape. I just heard his voice up ahead."

The Slytherin was not visible to Remus, and he didn't hear so much as a peep, but he nodded at Sirius, relaxing as his mouth was released. The two shuffled off to the side, into a slightly opened door. Breathing quietly, the two stayed perfectly still as sounds of whispers came from the other side of the door.

"He DOES want a Gryffindor. That one with the light hair. You know...uh...I forgot that git's name..."

Remus listened intently. He recognized the voice. It belonged to a Seventh Year Slytherin named Lucius Malfoy, who's elegant voice slightly raised at the end of each word, a trait so common of those who were brought up wealthy.

"The Dark Lord wants him? I know whom you're talking about, of course. That tall one who hangs around with Black and Potter." It was Snape's voice. He spat out the next word. "Lupin!"

Sirius was staring at him, his face inches away as they both leaned against the now-closed door. Even if Remus could risk speaking now, he wouldn't have known what to say just then.

The voices were moving farther away. "Yeah," Malfoy was saying, "the Dark Lord told my father of a very powerful Gryffindor that he was anxious to get his hands on for recruitment. Said that this student would be essential in getting to the person that is in..." The voices were so far away now that they couldn't be heard any longer.

Remus sighed and turned so that his back was leaning against the door. He eyed the room wearily, noting the clean floors and dusted corners. The house elves really do take their job seriously. Who ever comes in here to notice the cleanliness? He pushed himself off of the door and walked slowly around, finding a mirror propped up against the wall in the back. Trying to ignore the silence behind him, he stepped in front of the mirror.

Sirius watched his friend in the darkness, the only source of light coming from the quarter moon, bleeding silver through the small window. For a long time, Remus stood in front of that mirror, not saying a word. Uncomfortable at what the two Slytherins had been talking about, Sirius longed to fill the deafening silence that had practically smothered the room. He stared at Remus' back, hoping that his friend would say something, anything, that reflected his thoughts. Does Remus know about the Dark Lord wanting to recruit him?

Remus said nothing. He just stared into the mirror, and Sirius began to get anxious for...anything. A word. A sound. A song and dance. Just something to break the silence. He walked up next to his friend.

He couldn't be sure, but Sirius could swear that he saw wetness at the corner of Remus' eye. The taller boy was still staring into the mirror, transfixed.

"I know you're handsome, Moony, but I'm starting to get a little worried about your vanity," Sirius commented quietly, as if the sound of his voice at a normal volume would shatter the mirror. Remus blinked, and turned to look at his friend.

"What?"

Sirius let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I said I...never mind. You're shirt IS perfectly pressed, you know. You don't have to inspect every thread."

Remus regarded him solemnly. "Come here." He moved a little away from Sirius, and pointed to the place where he had been standing. "Look in there," he gestured to the mirror, "and tell me what you see."

Perplexed, Sirius stepped forward, but did not look away from Remus' face. "I already know I'm a handsome devil. I don't have to look at a mirror twenty times a day to confirm it to myself."

A smile crept onto Remus' face, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little. "Just look, you prat."

Sirius shrugged, and then turned to face the mirror. It was just what he expected-himself and Remus, standing next to each other in the room. But as he watched, something strange started to appear behind one of the room's columns in the mirror. A person, no, THREE people stepped out from behind the column, and stood behind Sirius and Remus.

It was James, Lily Evans, and Peter. James had his arm around Lily's waist, and she smiled up at him briefly before turning back to face the mirror, nodding to Sirius. Peter clapped a hand on Remus' shoulder, and James put one on Sirius', although he couldn't feel it.

There was something even odder about the scene, though. They all looked older, about mid-20's, and the Sirius in the mirror had turned to face Remus, having to look up because Remus was taller. They were leaning towards one another, happiness lit in both of their faces. The other three were smiling at both of them.

"What do you see?" Remus asked, breaking Sirius out of his trance as he watched. He turned to look at his friend, realizing that this was almost the exact same scenario as what was in the mirror, minus the other three.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius instead asked his own question. "What kind of mirror is this?"

Lips drawing tighter together at the diversion of the question, Remus shrugged. "Maybe it's something that you wish for."

Sirius had been thinking that maybe, just maybe, it showed the future. "Oh. What makes you say that?"

A smile. "I saw myself standing outside, at night, with the full moon behind me. I wasn't transformed. I was normal."

"You aren't abnormal without the mirror," Sirius heard himself speak. "I was thinking that it showed the future, but then yours wouldn't make sense, unless someone found a cure."

Remus laughed a little. "Highly unlikely, that. I'll be beyond help if someone ever manages to find one, anyway." He shook his head. "What did you see? And no changing the subject this time."

Taking another glance at the mirror, Sirius saw the five even older, perhaps in their 40's this time, and Remus was kissing Sirius, with looks of happiness aimed at them from the other three. "I see us growing, getting older and older, and we're all happy and healthy and still friends. Me, you, Peter, and James. Even Lily Evans, and she's with James." He swallowed the last part, the part of himself and Remus snogging in front of their friends. He felt something stir in his stomach.

He couldn't stop watching.

"Are you done looking?" Remus asked. He had moved back to the door, a closed look on his face. Sirius took one more glance, sighed, and followed his friend out of the room, the conversation between the two Slytherins gone from his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

June 1977

Remus is tall, Sirius thought to himself as he watched the other boy walk towards him. Loud cheery cries from parents and students filled the air as Sirius noticed the black Hogwarts robes billowed out around Remus' legs. The sunlight was streaming very fetchingly onto the light brown hair, which was now chin-length. Did I just think that Remus was fetching?

"Oi, Sirius!" Remus was breathless, pink blossoming onto his cheeks, making him look younger than usual. He stopped in front of Sirius, a good two inches taller than his darker-haired companion now, a crooked smile on his thin face. "James has been looking all over the place for you. Why'd you hurry off the train? His mum wants some pictures of all of us."

Sirius didn't answer. He just stared at the flush in Remus' cheeks, the sun in his hair, the light in his eyes. Slight signs of stubble glinted faintly on Remus' chin and upper lip, and Sirius couldn't stop looking.

"Hello? Sirius?" Remus wasn't bothered by the way Sirius was watching him, but he was a little embarrassed. He couldn't ignore the fluttering in his stomach, though, the way it always did whenever he caught Sirius staring at him. It happened often the last few months of school.

Sirius seemed to come to. "Oh, sorry. Daydreaming. I wanted to get off before I got caught in the aisle jam. What was it you wanted?" He smiled. Running a hand through his short black hair, he shrugged. "Pictures, right? Ah, good old sentimental Karen. I can just hear her now." His voice mimicked in a high falsetto, "James will need a last set of pictures of the best friends he's ever had. He'll want them to look upon when he gets old and gray like me."

Remus chuckled. "Yeah, that's pretty much what she said. But she asked for you, first, so get your arse over there, will you?"

"Yeah, I can imagine her panicking over a picture without me in it," Sirius shrugged, putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers (he had taken his robes off as soon as the train left Hogwarts) and fell into step beside his friend. "Imagine, having to look at a picture of you three ugly gits in the future without having my handsome face to counteract the horror."

All too right, thought Remus, but kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he smirked. "Your humble nature astounds even me, Padfoot."

They walked the rest of the way in silence over to where Karen Potter was fussing over James' hair. She deliberately licked her palm and held it out, attempting to flatten her son's hair, but James jerked away. "Mum! I'm not 12 anymore! You can't do that without subjecting your only son to a life of mockery from his mates!"

"But I wouldn't tease you, James," Lily Evans stood off to the side, watching James with his mother fondly. She had a peaceful look on her pretty face. "I'd probably do the same thing if MY son had hair like yours."

Karen smiled at Lily, this girl that James had told her about in his last few letters, one that he had been on a few brief dates with. She turned to her son. "I'm just trying to be a good mother, James. I don't want you looking like a hoodlum in the last of your school pictures!"

"Too late," Sirius jabbed as he sidled up. He put his arm around James, who scowled, and sighed. "But don't worry, Jamsie, you won't look like too much of a...eh, HOODLUM if you stand by me."

"Thanks for the compliment, you ruddy git," James rolled his eyes. He noticed the look on his mother's face. "Uh, I mean, er, you horribly mean person, you." He flashed an embarrassed grin. "Sorry, Mum."

Karen sighed and smiled at Remus, who had been quiet so far. "Hello, Remus. Congratulations! You mother told me about getting those Defense Against the Dark Arts grades on your NEWTS. James never said that you were the top of your year in that subject."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Remus replied politely. Karen smiled. She had always liked Remus, the quiet, often sick-looking boy who seemed so nice. She turned to Peter, who had just wandered up. "And Peter, darling, James told me about the way you thanked Dumbledore himself for the wonderful school years you had at Hogwarts."

Peter shuffled his feet, a blush reaching his cheeks. "Thanks, Mrs. Potter. I was inspired, really."

"By us, right?" Sirius asked, his eyes wide. "Peter, I didn't know you cared that much!" He took up one of Peter's hands and started shaking it, to Peter's surprise. "I'm glad to have been such a big part of your years here at school. What would you have done without me?"

"Let's go ahead and get these ruddy pictures over with before Sirius' head is too big to fit in the frames," James interrupted, to which Sirius dropped Peter's hand and growled at James. He received a rude gesture for his growl.

"James Theodore Potter!" his mum scolded. James just laughed. "Well, you're right, we do need to get a move on with these pictures. Sirius, where are your robes, dear?"

Sirius managed to look shifty. "Er...I..." He had shoved them into his trunk as soon as he had taken them off.

Karen sighed. "Nevermind, I suppose it's not THAT important." She gestured to James. "Stand over there, with the train in the background. Makes a nice shot, don't you think?"

Peter took the small pendant he always wore around his neck and tapped it with his wand, growing it back to the right size for his ever-present camera. He took pictures of the same things that Karen took, particularly when it came time for Sirius and James to take one together.

"There, now, lean in close, boys. Don't be shy." Karen took pictures of the two, who, at her comments about leaning closer, went so close that they threatened to bump heads. At Karen's "closer" Sirius even went so far as to wrap both arms around James and pull him in close, getting an eye roll from Remus. Peter still snapped some pictures, while Karen stopped and glared. "Sirius Black, can you be serious, just once? These are important!"

Sirius stifled the obvious reply and went back to just standing beside his best friend, smiling for both cameras. He felt rather than saw James' hand creep up behind his head, no doubt giving him ears of some sort.

"Done," Karen announced before one could be taken of her son's antics. "Remus, go over there with Sirius. I want one of you two."

Remus sighed a little, stepping close, but not close enough to touch Sirius. He forced his lips into a smile.

"Surely you can lean in closer than that. And Remus, dear, SMILE for heaven's sake. You've got beautifully white teeth-it would be a shame to hide them. I do want you to look like FRIENDS in this picture, after all." Karen waited for the two boys to awkwardly comply, and then began clicking away again. Peter took only one, from when the two were standing sort of distant from each other.

After taking several more pictures of various groups, Karen sighed, smiling, and gestured for all of them to get close. "Come on, now, a group picture. I'll have this one framed for James. It would look perfect on that tall brown dresser of his..."

"I hate that ugly old thing," James complained, but under his breath, even while smiling. Sirius leaned in close and wrapped one of his arms around the other boy's neck, messing up the already-messy hair with his other hand.

James wrestled away. "Hey!" He took a light swing at Sirius' shoulder. "Bloody wan..." he broke off with a sideways glance to his frowning mother. "Stupid face."

Remus, having heard him from the other side of Sirius, couldn't help but laugh. Karen swooped in close and made him, along with Sirius, stand in the back. Lily, James, and Peter stood in front.

"I want you all to press in together, now," she was saying as she backed up. "I want to get all of you in the picture..."

An arm snaking around his waist, Remus turned to look at Sirius, who was only looking ahead, as if it wasn't his arm that was wrapped around his friend.

James, meanwhile, had taken Lily's hand somewhat shyly, fighting down a blush. They had held hands plenty of times now, and even snogged a few times, but that was it. He was too embarrassed to confess to Sirius, but he actually wanted to take it slow with Lily, as if he were waiting for it to be the right time. He snorted quietly. Whatever "the right time" was.

A few more flashes, and the pictures were done. Karen excused herself to go find and talk to Sirius' parents, and left the five teenagers standing around, looking at each other. Sirius found himself holding onto Remus' waist for a little bit longer before letting go regretfully.

"You know," James broke the silence, "this will be the last time we'll be together here. Once we leave today, we'll be finished. We'll be adults." He looked rather wistfully at the train.

Remus frowned. "Well, technically, we're already done with-"

"Shut it, Remus," Sirius interrupted with a twinkle in his eyes. "We know we're already done. Just try not to ruin the sappy moment, here. I think James is starting to tear up."

James swiped at his shoulder, sending Sirius to jumping back, laughing. "I'm not tearing up!"

"It's true, though," Peter added in. "We're done. We're going to be starting jobs soon, and getting married, and having families..."

Sirius screwed his face up, wrinkling his straight nose. "Not me. Well, besides the job thing. But married! Me!"

Remus snorted. "I think if you ever asked a girl to marry her, she'd die of shock at your desire to commit to one person."

Looking straight into Remus' amber eyes with unusual seriousness and bravery, Sirius stated quietly, "I could commit to the right person."

"Whoa," Peter laughed a little too forcefully. "Getting a little too personal here!"

"Yeah, one would think you're trying to hit on poor Remus here," James added in to Sirius.

Lily smiled. "Actually, I wouldn't be opposed to that," she said a little dreamily. She looked at Remus up and down, to his embarrassment, and then turned her eyes to Sirius, doing the same. "You two together would make any sane person drool."

James cackled and wrinkled his nose, and Sirius and Peter burst into peals of laughter while Remus turned red, a grin showing off his teeth.

"Harboring any more secret fantasies, Lily?" James choked out. "Besides seeing Remus and Sirius together? What else don't I know about you?" He let out another few laughs at her eyes rolling, and then pulled the girl in close, kissing her on her forehead. "Merlin! I love you so much!"

Sirius smiled at them both, while Remus politely turned his head and Peter just sighed to himself as Lily and James shared a quiet moment looking at each other, holding each other a little close.

"Get a room, you two," Sirius broke the silence. "We should probably get out of here-I don't think I want to be late to my own 'end of school' party at my parents' house, and considering you gits are my best friends, I don't think it'd be a good idea for you to miss it, either."

And so they all started to get ready to leave. Right before they walked onto the train, though, James pulled back. "Wait, guys. Lily, can you go wait for us over there? We'll be done in a second." Lily nodded as Sirius, Remus, and Peter followed their friend away from the crowd, off the platform. The crowd around the train started to weed out as students and parents left to go home for the summer.

"I want us to make a pact," James said gruffly. He held out his hand, while the other three looked at him, silent, no one laughing at his unusually stoic demeanor. "I want all of us to promise something. Come on, put your hands out."

Remus had his hand on top of Peter's, with Sirius' on top of his own. He felt Sirius' thumb rub lightly across the side of his left hand, and gazed over at the black-haired teenager, who just looked back at him with an expression that he couldn't read. They both turned to James at the same time.

"I, James Potter, promise to be there for his friends whenever they have need of him. As a Marauder, I will do my best to make sure that no other Marauder will suffer under any circumstance that is in my power to prevent." He paused, as if pondering what else to say. A little snort, and then he continued. "I will always solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Long live the Marauders."

He nudged Peter, who stumbled to repeat what he had said, inserting his own name. Sirius copied the speech smoothly, even closing his eyes, as if he were praying the promise instead of just speaking. Remus, the last, felt his throat catch near the end, and sped up the last sentence to finish it as he also closed his eyes, willing the prick of tears away from his eyes.

This would be the last time they saw each other as students (but technically, as he had been about to say earlier, they were no longer students, as the results for the NEWTS had already been given out, and they had already left Hogwarts for the last time). Remus suddenly felt sad, incredibly, horribly sad, as he opened his eyes again to stare at the only and best friends he had ever had. They understood him, they accepted him, and they had done everything in their power already to help him with the one thing that threatened to make his life a miserable hell to live in the outside world. They had given him hope for salvation, making him believe that if he could fight the savage wolf that took over every month, then he could have a better chance at not being eternally damned, as werewolves were said to be by every "expert" that had ever written a book about lycanthropes. He believed, with the right circumstances, that he could live a more normal life than most creatures like him could never even come close to living, and for that, he was grateful.

He would do anything for these three friends of his. Peter, with his growing bravery and his fierce loyalty, James, with his passion for life and his will for the greater good, and Sirius.

Yes, Sirius, with his thick, black hair that was perfectly combed into place and his tanned skin and his sky blue eyes. Sirius, with his perfectly straight nose, despite a few Bludgers to the face, and a smile that could make the earth stop spinning for Remus.

No one would be able to replace these friends of his. So loyal, so brave, so clever, and so wonderfully accepting that Remus knew that he would never find anyone as good as these three. They were his friends, his brothers, and he could think of nothing that could tear them apart. They were the Marauders, a band held together so tightly that the world would not be able to push even a space between the four of them.

"Nasty dust storm, huh, Remus?"

He smiled at Sirius, a full smile as he let the tear fall. "Yes, particularly horrible, that. I'll just blink this speck of dust out. No need to start on the crying jokes."

And without another word, the four hugged briefly, pulled apart, and then walked their own separate ways to find their parents, and leave for home.


	4. Chapter 4

December 16th, 1993

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

Butterbeer sounded good to him, so when Ron shouted the suggestion of the drink that 'warmed your insides,' he readily agreed to the Three Broomsticks, dragging Hermione along behind them.

Right before they went in, Harry heard Hermione shouting something behind him. He turned, making Ron stop in his tracks to see what the hold up was, as well. There was a notice posted up outside the door to one of the shops.

ATTENTION TO ALL HOGSMEDE VISITORS AND RESIDENTS: Dementors will be patrolling the town's streets at sundown until dawn. Any person seen outside at nighttime will be taken for questioning. Apprehension of the murderer Sirius Black will cause the Dementors to leave, so any knowledge of the whereabouts of Black should be reported to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad's office immediately. Merry Christmas!

Shuddering, Harry tried to ignore the sounds of his mum's screams in his head. Dementors in Hogsmede. I wonder how long it will be before they're allowed in Hogwarts? He cast a nervous glance around, catching nothing out of the ordinary. The swirling flakes of snow brushed through his hair and seemed to chill him to the bone, but the people bustling in and out of the different shops didn't seem to notice it, for they were all wrapped in heavy cloaks and robes. Harry had forgotten his robe when he came through the tunnel into the basement of Honeydukes.

"Come on, Harry? You're going to freeze to death if you stand about!" Hermione tugged on his arm, looking worried. "Are you alright?"

Shaking himself, but not entirely from the cold, Harry followed his friends inside the small inn. The room was crowded, wizards and witches crammed at the bar and nearly every table. Seeing a free booth near the back, Harry pointed.

"That's Madame Rosmerta," Ron pointed to a busty witch with a pretty face. His face reddened a little. "I'll go get our drinks while you two go save that table for us." He hurried off in the direction of the bar, and Hermione pulled him through the crowd by his arm.

After settling in on one side of the booth and shaking the snow off of her heavy cloak and setting it down onto the seat beside her, Hermione gave Harry a tight smile. "At least we won't be here at night, right? So you won't have to be near those...awful THINGS."

Harry nodded, his jaw clamped shut. He didn't want to talk about what the Dementors did to him. He didn't want to discuss the voices that he heard when he got too close to the dreaded creatures. Instead, Ron walked up with three foaming mugs of butterbeer, and Harry took a huge gulp.

It warmed him immediately. Smiling, he took another swallow, and then set the mug down in front of him, keeping his cold hands wrapped around the warmth. He turned to Ron, who had sat down next to him. "You can use the Map anytime you want, you know. After all, it was YOUR brothers who gave it to me. It's yours by rights, anyway."

Ron rolled his eyes, shaking his red bangs away from his face. "My whole family loves you more than they do me. It's insane, really. My mum, Fred and George..." He paused, grinning. "Ginny..."

Feeling his face burning up, Harry chose to stop looking at his friend's wicked grin and instead turned to face Hermione. "So, what are you..."

He trailed off as he caught Ron's gasp, hearing the door open. Turning to look at who had come in, he felt his heart jump into his throat.

Harry didn't need to be told twice to duck down underneath the table as soon as he heard the voices of Professors Flitwick and McGonagall carry over from the doorway of the Three Broomsticks. It was rather cramped, with Ron's long, bony legs on one side of him, taking up the most space, and Hermione's bare calves on the other side, since her skirt only came to her knees, and her robe was open. He tried not to think about it, and concentrated on what he could do to get out without being caught. He wasn't supposed to be in Hogsmede without permission.

Hermione moved the Christmas tree partially in front of the table, so now Harry had to peer through the branches to see what was going on. Unfortunately, all he could see was a man's legs and feet, a woman's, and what could only be Hagrid's and Professor Flitwick's feet as the four sat at a table nearby. He picked out the Minister of Magic's voice, Cornelius Fudge, at once.

"Over here, Madame, why don't you sit for a few moments and have a drink with us?"

Madame Rosmerta's dainty little feet carried her over to their table and handed out drinks. She complained about the Dementors that were roaming the streets of Hogsmede, scaring away all the customers.

"Ah, but it is only necessary, Madame. With Sirius Black on the loose, we need to take every precaution..." Fudge was saying. Harry could do nothing but listen.

"You know, if you had asked me before if I could have suspected Black to be a cold-blooded murderer before all of that happened, I would have told you that you had too much to drink!" Madame Rosmerta was saying. "Him and that James Potter-how much trouble those two boys gave me!" She laughed sadly.

"Like brothers, those two were," Flitwick commented. Harry was stunned. He had been told by Arthur Weasley that Sirius Black had escaped to come after Harry, but he had no idea that this killer had been his dad's friend. He thought that he shouldn't have been TOO surprised, however, considering that he didn't know anything about his father at all. No one had ever answered any questions about him when asked, always shifting the conversation to his mother, and how she had died, and how her sacrifice had saved his life when he was a little baby. But his dad? No one had ever told him anything. Harry figured that his dad must have been a painful subject for everyone to talk about. But then, why would they be willing to discuss his mother? He vaguely noticed that Ron's previously twitching leg had gone completely still. Flitwick continued. "Always playing pranks, riling up the rest of their House. They both hold the record for the most detentions ever, you know. And they both seemed to encourage each other, like it was some kind of contest!"

"I expect that it was," said McGonagall sadly. "To think of what happened later, you would have never guessed..."

Fudge cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "Actually, there are some facts that aren't very well known about them two. Peter Pettigrew, the one that Black killed, he kept a diary. It contained some very detailed accounts from their school days and afterwards together."

"Pettigrew?" Madame Rosmerta seemed to pause. "I don't remember him."

"He's the one of their close friends that cornered Black in the street full of Muggles. Black caused an explosion that blew twelve Muggles and Pettigrew himself to bits. Muggle police had to release a statement about a gas explosion to cover it up, while the Magical Law Enforcement Squad got there right away and carted Black off to be questioned. They found him laughing in the middle of the street, too. Must have been completely off his rocker, then. The MLES sent the only part they could find of Pettigrew, his finger, in a box back to his mother, along with the comfort of a title of Order of Merlin, First Class for him," Fudge told her.

"He was the fat boy in their little group. I remember, I used to give him such a hard time-he was terrible at Transfiguration," McGonagall said. "He was always looking up to his friends, following them around, taking pictures of them. Of course, you can imagine how badly I feel now for the way I treated him..." She sounded choked up.

"There, there, Minerva," Flitwick said. "It's not like any one of us knew what would happen. I mean, to think-James Potter or Sirius Black, a Death Eater?"

A strange roaring sound filled Harry's ears, and he couldn't seem to think straight. His father, a Death Eater? What were they saying? Maybe this was why people always seemed to avoid talking about his father, always changing to subject to his dead mum whenever he had asked before. Maybe they didn't want him to know about his dad. They didn't want him to grieve for a Death Eater.

"And Black was aiding him. You see, the Potters had to go into hiding, because You-Know-Who was seeking them out. It seemed like he knew just where they would be, every time. Albus suspected one of the Potters' close friends, and he warned them, but they didn't listen. They chose to go into hiding, and James insisted that Black be the Secret Keeper," explained Fudge.

"Secret Keeper?" Madame Rosmerta asked. "What's that mean?"

Flitwick spoke up. "There's a charm called the Fidelius Charm. The person who is the Secret Keeper holds a secret that can only be unlocked by that person willingly. Can't even be tortured out of them-it has to WANT to come out. If Black had not told You-Know-Who where the Potters were hiding willingly, then You-Know-Who could have been looking through the sitting window of the Potters' house and never found them."

"How did everyone know that Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper?" asked Madame Rosmerta.

This time, Hagrid spoke up, a tremble in his voice. "They told Dumbledore beforehand, didn' they? When I arrived at the Potters' house tha' night, I found Lily an' James, an' I met up with Sirius Black. I didn' know he had been the Secret Keeper. He wanted to take little Harry, saying he was his Godfather, but I told him I had my orders, o' course. He instead gave me his bike ter ride." He paused. "At the time, I had thought that both James an' Lily were dead. An' I COMFORTED tha' murderin' traitor! To think, I almos' gave lil' Harry up to a cold-blooded killer!"

Harry felt one of Ron's hands settle on his shoulder, and Hermione's on the other. He feared that one of his Professors would discover him by hearing his heartbeat in his chest.

"But you didn't Hagrid, and that's all that matters now. He'll get what's coming to him. And ah, James Potter. Such a shame, really. Would think he was innocent, except for the evidence against him, of course," Fudge commented.

"Yeah, I heard about the diary before-I suppose it was Pettigrew's? And the pictures?" Flitwick had an almost eager tone in his voice.

Fudge sighed. "Yes, there was that. Pettigrew described in great detail of the supposed love affair between Potter and Black in that diary of his. It was all behind poor Lily's back, too. Some of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad found the diary and some of the pictures of the two in Pettigrew's bedroom at his mother's house, and his mother herself turned a few more in. It was obvious, the love between those two. They were extremely close in those pictures." He lowered his voice. "But that wasn't the biggest thing. I was in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the ones present for the investigation of James Potter's wand. We did a Prior Incantatem on it, and the last spell used had been the Killing Curse. Lily was definitely killed by that curse. He was assisting You-Know-Who in killing off Lily and Harry, so he could be with his lover, Sirius Black."

A silence fell over the table, and Harry was trying to control his breathing. He never knew, he never KNEW any of this, and no one had ever told him. Was he that young? Did they really think he was too innocent and carefree to handle this?

"O' course, Black had ter be a Death Eater, too. After all, he's the one who was the Secret Keeper, so he obviously revealed where the Potters were." Hagrid sniffed. "Poor Harry. Lily was such a great woman. He would have loved to grow up with her, I'm sure. Would've made up for his good-for-nothin' dad."

"Yes, Potter and Black were kept on separate sides of Azkaban, so the two wouldn't conspire together. Obviously, they would have been happy to be together, so we had to make sure to prevent that. What bothered me was the fact that when I was there, Black seemed so NORMAL. That was only a month before Black escaped." Fudge sighed. "Potter, though, seemed a little crazy. Kept crying out in his sleep. Couldn't understand him, but one of the guards told me that he heard him call Black's name once."

All was quiet then, as the teachers finished their drinks, an occasional sniffle interrupting the silence. Harry didn't dare move. He was too much in shock, at that point, though. His father, James Potter, was alive. In Azkaban, but alive, nonetheless. Harry didn't know what to think. He had already decided that he hated Sirius Black. Did Hagrid say that Black was his Godfather? And Hagrid knew about his dad? Why hadn't he told him all of this? Why hadn't Dumbledore?

"Well, it's time for me to start heading back," Flitwick said, his high voice breaking the silence. "Minerva, Hagrid, are you coming?"

Chairs scraped as the five stood up. As soon as the three teachers bid goodbyes to Fudge and Madame Rosmerta, Ron and Hermione's faces appeared under the table. They were both staring at him with looks in their eyes that conveyed exactly what Harry felt.

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Remus Lupin sighed as he pushed the stack of essay parchments aside, leaning his forehead onto his desk. He was sitting in his classroom, pondering why he had not gone to Hogsmede with the rest of the professors. But you know why, Lupin, he told himself. It was getting close to the full moon, and he always felt rather sick when it approached. He hated the concerned looks and the questions. "Are you all right, Professor?" "You don't look so good, Remus." "You look as if you could eat a whole student, Lupin."

The last had come the day before, from Snape. Black robes had swished as Snape had walked into the classroom that evening, the Wolfsbane Potion smoking from the goblet in his hand. Familiar sneer in place, Snape had made the comment, to which Remus had said nothing.

Remus' thoughts were interrupted when a persistent knock on his door broke through them. Sighing, he held his head up and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Come in."

It was Snape. Another goblet of the Wolfsbane Potion was clutched in his long fingers. If Remus didn't know better, he would have thought that Snape wore the same black, billowy robes every day. As it were, he knew that Snape probably had dozens of identical sets made for him at the beginning of each year.

"Thought you should take another dose of this," the man said softly, but with no kindness. He set the goblet down on the edge of the desk, and turned to leave.

Remus, however, didn't feel like sitting alone in his classroom any longer. "I've got some fire whiskey that's been sitting in the cabinet in the back of the classroom, if you want any." He waited until Snape turned back around and looked at him before pointing to the cabinet. "Lockhart must have left it in his haste to leave last year."

He was afraid that Snape would just sneer and leave anyway, but he was surprised. "If it belonged to Lockhart, then I feel no regret in drinking what's his," the Potions master said as he walked to the cabinet and opened it, reaching behind an empty cage to take the bottle out. Remus watched as he strode to another cabinet and opened it, fetching two glasses, and crossing the room to sit in one of the chairs next to the desk.

Trying not to smile at the most friendly signs that Snape had ever shown him, Remus picked up the glass after the fire whiskey was poured and took a sip. They sat in silence for a few moments, not looking at each other.

Snape was the first to break it. "Did you know about Black and Potter being together?"

His heart sinking into his stomach, Remus took a deep swallow of the drink, the liquid fire burning a trail down his throat. "No." Memories of Sirius and James laughing together, plotting pranks together, and playing Quidditch together flashed through his mind, and he closed his eyes against the familiar pain. He had not known. He had thought...You had thought that your feelings for Sirius were returned.

"But Pettigrew knew," Snape pressed.

"I guess he did." He knew and you didn't know and you thought...oh Peter, why didn't you ever say something to me? Why didn't anyone say anything to me?

Snape finished his drink. He did not pour another. Instead, he answered the question in Remus' mind, the question that Remus had always avoided answering. "They must have suspected you, then." He stood up, and pointed to the Wolfsbane Potion. "Drink that before you forget." He watched Remus do just that, watching him as he shuddering at the awful taste. Taking the empty goblet back, he lingered for a moment longer, enough to get in some final words. "They were right to suspect you, I think. You're not any more innocent than they were, Lupin. I will never forget the time you almost killed me. I'll be watching you." He left as he came in, with the swish from his robes and the door closing quietly with a click.

Remus stared after him, wondering how the conversation had taken the turn for the worse. Sighing, he numbly let his head fall back to the cool, hard desk.

He fell into a restless sleep in that position.


	5. Chapter 5

July 31, 1980

In the late July heat, the grounds at the edge of his vision were hazy and seemed to shimmer, unfocused. Peter Pettigrew paused at what he was doing, wiping his drenched forehead on the sleeve of his thin Muggle t-shirt.

Weeding was something that was so mundane, a chore that most wizards never bothered with. Even Hagrid, with all of his groundskeeping duties, just spread some Madame Loughlin's Weed-Killer all over the outside of Hogwarts once a year, right after the students were sent home for the summer holidays, and he wouldn't have to think about it again. No sane person LIKED to weed.

Well, I'm not exactly sane, am I? Peter smirked to himself, his jeans brown at the knees from where he knelt in the dirt, his gloves caked with clumps of weeds that tended to cling. He would have done the same as Hagrid, had he really disliked doing what could only be called a chore. In fact, a can of the weed-killer had been sitting inside Hagrid's hut, with a note attached, instructing Peter that he would only have to bother with it once at the beginning of the summer, and then he could focus his attention on other things, like the hedges around the lake, or the flowers that bloomed near the Herbology greenhouses.

But Peter found, when he first bent down to pull a weed out on the first day of summer holidays, that he enjoyed the simple act of ridding the grounds of one piece of the poison that infected it each year. He felt as if it could be a metaphor for his own life. Pull out the bad things. Give life to the good things. Don't let the good things crowd out the bad things. Every weed he pulled was a moment in his life that he hated.

One. That's for the time that McGonagall told me I was hopeless. Two. That's for the angry look Sirius gave me that time that I accidentally spilled pumpkin juice on his winter robes in Fifth Year. Three. And this is for the time that James first lied to me.

But he didn't want to dwell on that, not really. When Peter had first met his three best friends, it had been James that had welcomed him in with open arms. James had been so considerate and kind that Peter instantly liked and admired him. It was on the third night of First Year, when the four boys had already gone to bed, that James had shown the first signs of unwavering friendship and acceptance.

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Peter huddled in his bed, his sheets pulled all the way up to his chin, even though it was still warm at night. He was on the bed at one end of the room, next to James'. He could hear some rustling as someone got out of their own bed, but since Peter's curtains were closed around him, he could not see who it was.

"Psst! James! Are you awake?" It was Sirius, Peter was sure.

A soft groan. "I am now, you prat. What is it?"

"I can't sleep. Let's go explore!

Peter thought that James would just tell Sirius to go bugger off, but he was surprised when, after a pause, James agreed. There was the swishy sound of a curtain being pulled back all the way, and some soft slaps of bare feet on the stone floor.

As much as he didn't want to get into trouble, Peter would have given anything to go with them, but he didn't want to seem like an overbearing bother, so he stayed still, wondering if the two were really going to leave.

"Should we wake the others?" James asked.

"I don't know. Can we trust them not to go snitching on us?"

Peter felt a pang of irritation. 'I'm not a snitch,' he thought to himself.

James sighed. "I think we can trust them both."

"Are you sure? I mean, how well do we know them? Remus is a little strange, don't you think? And Peter looks as if he misses his mum already. Both of them probably wouldn't want to get in trouble."

"Sirius! How well do WE know each other? How do you know that I'M not going to snitch?"

"That's different. We're meant to be mischief-makers, you and I. Don't tell me that you think Remus is capable of playing a prank on McGonagall? Or Peter of sneaking into the girl's dorm and stealing a pair of knickers?"

A chuckle. "I don't think I'M capable of stealing a pair of girl's knickers, to be honest. But I see your point. Still, I don't think it's fair to exclude them."

"Okay, okay. Remus doesn't seem that bad. He looks too innocent. Maybe that'll benefit us in the future."

"Great. Let's go wake them." Peter heard some footsteps as one of the two padded over to Remus' bed, on the other side of the room, and pulled the curtains back.

"Sirius, I'm not leaving Peter. If you wake Remus right now, then I'm going to wake Peter, and we'll all go."

A sigh from Remus' bed. "Fine, James. Go wake him. He just better not rat on us."

Peter felt a sense of belonging after that night, as James came to wake him, and the four boys explored the castle until they got caught by Filch, and got their first ever detention together.

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Peter pushed his limp blond hair off of his forehead with his wrist as he surveyed his work. His temporary summer job taking Hagrid's place was something that he felt no regret in, and no shame in. After all, it was more than what Remus had, who worked at a Muggle library, shelving books, getting paid minimum wage.

Remus deserves better. Peter felt a stab of remorse for his friend. It's not his fault, after all. He's so smart, and so kind, and has all of this education behind him. He should be treated like every other wizard out there. Stupid, bloody Ministry. Yanking another weed out of the ground, Peter felt his heart go out to his poor, struggling fellow Marauder.

He probably doesn't even know about James and Sirius. Not that Peter thought that Remus would care, necessarily, but the werewolf would probably be hurt that no one had told him. Peter had all of his suspicions, and his own proof, but all he had gotten out of James and Sirius had been denials and anger.

And that was the first time that James had lied to Peter, after all of the times that he had shown his worth as a valuable person and friend. Peter KNEW what had happened between James and Sirius, but the former had looked shifty-eyed, even as he had denied what Peter had accused him of. Peter couldn't help but remember...

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Peter walked slowly down the corridor on the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, reaching down with one hand to tug lightly at the waistband of his trousers. They kept slipping down, but Peter didn't mind. 'I must be losing weight,' he thought happily. He was fifteen now, and his three friends had already lost all of their baby fat. Poor James was all elbows and knees, and Remus towered over Peter now, his face painfully thin.

All the girls thought Sirius was just SO handsome, though, as Peter had overheard Marcie Tanglewood telling Tricia Wilkins one day. With short, thick black hair and bright blue eyes framed by black lashes and white, straight teeth surrounded by 'perfectly kissable' lips (again, a quote by Marcie), Sirius was the 'epitome of perfection.'

Peter sniggered a little as he remembered that conversation. He supposed that Sirius was pretty good-looking, for a guy, but the 'epitome of perfection?' Peter himself felt a little jealous, however. HE would never be called anything of the sort, with his always-watery grayish eyes (he had bad allergies) and his limp blond hair and his somewhat-pudgy body.

Passing by the Charms classroom, Peter was jerked out of his thoughts by a noise. Someone had spoken, a single word that might have been "okay," but Peter wasn't too sure. He stopped, quieting his breathing, and peered inside the door, which was still cracked open, feeling a little guilty about spying.

He almost fell backwards onto his arse. There, in the classroom, both sitting on Flitwick's desk, side by side, were James and Sirius. If it had been any other situation, Peter could have just walked in and the other two would have greeted him and the three would have perhaps gone for a bite in the kitchens, or gone to drag Remus away from his books.

But, as it were, it wasn't any other situation. The two dark-haired boys were kissing. Sirius was sort of leaning in to James, and both had their eyes closed. Peter swallowed his gasp and backed away, practically taking off down the corridor.

Rushing past the Fat Lady, Peter spotted Remus right away, sitting in a chair in the corner, a book in one hand, a bright red apple in the other. The werewolf's amber eyes were staring fixedly at the book, and Peter noticed that the two bites that had been taken out of the fruit were already brown on the surface, meaning that Remus had forgotten to keep eating, as engrossed as he was.

Peter launched himself into the chair opposite his friend, a knot in his stomach. Sirius and James...kissing. This was big. This was bigger than big, and he didn't know whether to shout it out or just tell Remus in private.

As he stared at Remus, the way his light brown hair fell into his eyes and the way the fire sent orange flames dancing across his perfectly unblemished skin, Peter felt a rush of anxiety flood through him. He was hurt that Sirius and James were having...er...relations behind his back. They didn't trust him enough to tell him? Did they think that he wouldn't approve? But as hurt as he was, he thought that Remus would be devastated. After all, Remus had trusted the three of them with the most dreadful and frightening secret of all. Who were they to keep secrets back, after that one had been told?

So just as Remus turned a page and looked up, jumping a little at just noticing him, Peter knew that he wouldn't tell Remus what he had seen. No, Remus had enough pain in his life without feeling betrayal from his friends.

"Hey, Peter, I haven't been completely ignoring you like a prat for a long time, have I?" Remus smiled a little, his eyes twinkling. He looked so apologetic that Peter grinned back at him, feeling REALLY sorry for Remus just then.

"I just sat down. And you're not a prat. It must be a good book."

Remus held it up. "Dante's 'Inferno'. It's excellent! About a man that goes through Hell, with all these different layers described in detail, with this one full of Carnal Sinners and another full of Virtuous Pagans and..." Remus stopped, his voice cracking at the last word. He flushed bright red, but Peter knew not to say anything. With Sirius and James, you could tease about the embarrassing adolescent changes, but it just didn't seem to be funny with Remus.

"Sounds intriguing," Peter said instead. "Maybe I'll borrow it from you sometime." He stood and pointed to the browned apple, still clutched in Remus' other hand. "You better eat that before it turns to applesauce."

A small smile graced Remus' thin lips again. "Yes, I will. Are you going to bed now?"

"I'm a little tired, so I think I'll lie down for a bit," Peter fibbed. He WAS going to lie down, but he wasn't tired. In fact, he was VERY awake.

"Yes, well, when Sirius and James get back from where ever they went off to, I'll come up and get you. I'm a little hungry, and this apple's not very fulfilling. Would you fancy an outing to the kitchen?"

Peter grinned, though he felt an aching in his chest when Remus mentioned the other two boys. "Yes, that'd be good. I'll be awake. See you in a bit."

Remus nodded at him before turning back to his book, and Peter trudged up the stairs to their room, pulling off his shoes and robes before falling into bed. He stared up at the ceiling, and it seemed like a long time before someone was shaking his shoulder, waking him. He wasn't aware of dozing off, but soon was completely alert as he looked over and saw that James, not Remus, was the one that had come upstairs to get him.

"Remus said you might want to come with us to the kitchens," James said, smiling at him. Peter sat up and looked at his friend. No one else was in the room, and Peter trusted James to tell the truth more than Sirius.

So he gathered some courage that he never knew he had and asked what he didn't really want to ask, but HAD to know the answer to. "Is there something going on between you and Sirius?"

James' eyes went wide, but what came out of his mouth was something that Peter never, ever expected. "What are you talking about? What do you mean by 'something'?"

Peter sighed, but didn't look away from James' eyes. "I saw you two in the Charms classroom."

James looked down at where Peter's hand was clutching the edge of the sheet. "I don't know what you're talking about, Peter."

Was James going to LIE about this? Peter was shocked. James NEVER lied about anything. He was as straightforward and brave as anyone, and he would never have a reason to lie, especially to one of his friends. Clearing his throat, Peter said the words that he REALLY didn't want to say. "I happened by the Charms classroom on the way back from the library tonight, and I heard something, and I looked in there and saw you two kissing."

No doubt about it, James was starting to sweat. "Kissing? Me and Sirius? I told you, Peter, I don't know what you're talking about. We're not like that at all. Maybe you saw someone else." He stood up quickly and backed away, still not looking at Peter. "Remus and Sirius are waiting on us. We'd better get down there before Remus decides that Sirius would make a good snack, eh?" He exited the room before Peter had a chance to say another word.

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Peter didn't hallucinate when he saw what he saw. He had asked James again after that, and had gotten the same response. Sirius, when asked only once by Peter, had snapped at him and told him that he wasn't some 'pansy-arsed fairy boy,' and that maybe Peter had been eating too many of the Fizzing Whizbees from Honeydukes and had been light-headed at the time that he thought he saw them.

Sighing, Peter pulled at some more weeds and wondered. Maybe he really DID imagine that kiss. But then, what about all the other times? James and Sirius were always close, and Peter had pictures to prove it. He didn't know why he had such a fascination with the idea of them two being together after that. It was like if he could get enough pictures as proof, he could prove to himself that he wasn't some stupid sod who made up stories about his friends. He viewed it as a complicated puzzle, fitting the pieces together to make a whole. Each time that James had hugged Sirius, or each time that Sirius had gone straight up to James first after Transfiguring into Padfoot, or each time the two got closer to each other than any other set of male friends did, was a piece to this puzzle. Peter KNEW that they had something going on, at least before James began seeing Lily Evans, if not during.

And that was another complication. Lily Evans, now Potter, the wonderfully cheerful, beautiful, auburn-haired, green-eyed Lily, with the cutely freckled nose and the body to die for. She had been a Ravenclaw in school, and James had met her when they both became Prefects in Fifth Year and had their first meeting together. James had fallen in love with her at first sight, or so he claimed to Sirius when he thought Peter couldn't hear once, but Lily herself had not started paying attention to James until Seventh Year, when Sirius had stood up on the Gryffindor table during Lunch and asked Lily to go to the Yule Ball with James in front of everyone, much to James' embarrassment. Peter remembered having to fake a confused look on his face, and he felt a pang of sorrow for Remus when he heard his amber-eyed friend ask James, "How long have you fancied her?" But after being told 'two years', instead of showing anger and hurt at not being in on the secret, Remus acted delighted, though Peter couldn't help but notice the small flick of hurt in Remus' eyes. And Peter was amazed when Lily had looked over at Sirius, ignoring the jeers from her friends, and shouted back across the Great Hall that she'd be delighted to go to the Ball with James, as long as he came over to her table to ask her himself.

And that had been the start of the James/Lily relationship, though Peter still had his doubts whether or not the thing between James and Sirius had ended. Even now, at the very brink of having their first child, Peter still noticed a closeness between James and Sirius that was painful when Remus acted oblivious to it. Was he the only one that knew? Was he the only one that SAW?

Leaning back, Peter ignored the cramping muscles in his legs as he stood slowly, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He thought that maybe he could take an extra long lunch break today, or perhaps leave early. Lily's water had broken the night before, and she was at St. Mungo's, in the delivery wing. He thought it would be good to try and be there, to calm James down a little, and he wanted to be one of the first to see the child.

Brushing the dirt from his knees, Peter put his gloves on the ground and trudged up to the castle entrance. The cool air from the castle hit him as he walked in, and he sighed in pleasure, a smile creeping onto his face. It wasn't every day that he felt proud of himself for something, but the grounds were looking more fantastic every day, as he divided his time between the weeding and keeping up with the rest of the grounds. When Dumbledore had contacted him about the temporary job when Hagrid was to go on a much-needed vacation, Peter had been delighted, especially when Dumbledore had acknowledged his 'excellent abilities with tending to plants.' Taking up the job, Peter had found that it had been rewarding and satisfying, and the summer holidays had flown by, fast enough that Peter kind of regretted the start of the school year, when Hagrid would be back.

And then HE'LL bother you again. Peter shivered for a second, as if the air was TOO cold, although it wasn't. No one had come for him the whole summer he had been working at Hogwarts, but before, he had been threatened almost from the time that he had finished Seventh Year by a couple of Death Eaters, who caught him in Hogsmede that first time, buying a pound of Sugar Quills for Sirius' birthday in early July. Two masked men had dragged him into an alley between two buildings and pushed him into a corner between a wall and a large dustbin.

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"Hello, PETTIGREW, nice to see you here," one said nastily as the other pointed a wand at Peter's heaving chest. "Have you seen your friend Lupin lately? Our Lord is VERY interested to know where he'll be the next few days."

Peter felt afraid, deathly afraid, willing to do anything to get these men to leave him be. "I haven't seen him since we finished at Hogwarts," he lied. He didn't know what these two and their 'Lord' wanted with his friend, but he'd be damned if he was going to let them know where Remus was.

"I think you're lying," one of the Death Eaters whispered ferociously. "I don't think you see what's going on here." He leaned in close, his breath a hot, sour wind in Peter's face. "Why don't we show you that we mean business?"

And the pain hit him, like a bomb had gone off in every single cell in his body, and ripped into the adjacent cells even as it tore each individual one apart. Wracked with pain, Peter didn't become aware that he had fallen to the ground, face down, until the Cruciatus Curse was lifted. Waves of spasms continued to roll through his body, and he ignored the kick that he got in the ribs from a boot.

"You ready to give us some information, Pettigrew?" one of them asked. Peter coughed, reaching with effort to wipe some blood that came from a cut lip that he just realized he had. The Death Eaters had probably hit him on the way down, while he was under the curse.

He had an idea to get rid of them, but he was a little afraid of what the consequences would be once they came back for him. He gathered whatever courage he had, though, and let himself tell them. "On Saturday, he'll be at his mother's house. Go there at night." He stopped, coughed again, and finished. "He'll be in the shed out back."

One of the Death Eaters snorted. "And you expect us to believe that? You going to try and set up a trap for us? In a shed at night?"

Peter remembered the time that Sirius had sent Snape down the Whomping Willow passage after Remus during school. He felt slightly guilty, because Remus had been so angry and betrayed. 'But this is for Remus' safety,' he convinced himself in only one moment. He looked up at the masked men. "He'll be there. He's supposed to help his mum rearrange the shed, and he's doing it at night because it's too hot during the day."

The two Death Eaters looked at each other before turning back to Peter. "Alright," one of them said. "He'd better be there, though. If we find out you've led us astray..."

"What are you going to do to him?" Peter spat out. "If you hurt him..."

"You'll what?" the one on the right interrupted, a nasty laugh sounding from the hole in the mask near his mouth. "Kill us? Come after us for bothering your boyfriend?"

Peter felt a surge of anger well up inside him. "It's not like that! He just doesn't deserve to have scum like you even LOOK at him! You and your precious DARK LORD!" He glared at them as both seemed to straighten up.

"You would be wise to learn to keep your mouth shut about things of which you have no idea," one snarled. "The Dark Lord wants him. That's all that matters."

And before Peter could utter another word, both Death Eaters turned away from him and walked away, leaving him to pick himself up off the ground and face his friends. Saturday was the full moon, and Remus would be safe from them when they came. 'But he won't be safe forever,' thought Peter. 'He can't become a wolf when he wants to.' He wondered why they wanted Remus so badly. Did they want to hurt him?

He wouldn't let them. 'Remus is so kind, and so trusting, and such a wonderful person. He doesn't deserve to be hurt by them. He doesn't deserve to be hurt at all.' Peter pushed himself off the ground unsteadily and headed back to the nearest store on foot, to see if he could get cleaned and rested up enough to Apparate home without splinching himself.

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The Dark Lord himself had come for Peter every time after that, and it made him shiver at the memories. Voldemort had been very cruel, leaving him shaking on the floor of his single-room flat for leading the Death Eaters straight into a 'werewolf's lair'. "You'll learn that it is beneficial to yourself to not oppose me," Voldemort had told him.

But as the summer of 1980 had started with Peter working at Hogwarts, he hadn't had even one visit from Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters. Too protected by Dumbledore, Peter thought. As he came to the statue of the gargoyle guarding the entrance to where Dumbledore spent the entire year, he paused. Maybe I should tell him about Voldemort threatening me. Maybe he could protect me if I let him know that I'm not bothered while I'm here at the school. Maybe he'll even give me a permanent job here, like he did for Hagrid and Filch. But as soon as he thought it, Peter dropped the idea. It wasn't like he thought he was...too GOOD for a career like grounds keeping or care taking. It was just that he had gone through seven years of learning at one of the finest Wizarding institutions in the world, and he felt that he...didn't he DESERVE more? James was an Auror, and Sirius worked for the Nimbus Broom company, the most successful broom company out there. Even Lily worked for the Department of Mysteries, doing who-knew-what.

No, he would not settle for taking on Dumbledore's protection, because it was more apt to be emptying chamber pots for the Hospital Wing or some other such menial chore. If he handled it himself, it would prove to others, as well as to himself, that he was capable of better. Of more. With that decision made, Peter spoke the password ("Peppermint Toads") and trudged up the stairs, the drying sweat on the back of his neck making his hair stick to him uncomfortably. He stopped outside of the door to Dumbledore's office and raised his hand to knock, stopping himself when he heard a voice.

"My Inner Eye had always told me of your liking for sweets, Headmaster."

Peter stayed silent. He recognized the voice, a little, but he couldn't place it. It was a woman's voice, and it sounded as if the person might have had a slight head cold, causing her voice to be a bit raspy.

"My dear Miss Trelawney, you certainly do seem to keep that Inner Eye of yours focused." Dumbledore sounded amused. "I have to say that it seems that you DO know what you are about."

It was Sybill Trelawney, then, who was a Gryffindor two years ahead of Peter. She had been a loner, the sort who floated through all of her classes with her head in the clouds and her nose in the air. She had once looked down her nose at Peter, through her large glasses, and told him that she had been told by her 'Inner Eye' that he would not finish Seventh Year with the rest of his classmates. Peter smirked. She had been full of dragon dung. But what was she doing in Dumbledore's office?

His question was answered immediately. "Headmaster, I See that you will be hiring me for the Divination teaching position. I am the best person for the job, and you know that my skills in the area have always been top notch," she rambled mistily.

"Well, actually, Sybill, I have another four people to interview, and I already interviewed two before you. I haven't decided...Miss Trelawney? Miss Trelawney, are you quite alright? You look...Miss Trelawney!" A chair was pushed back, and Peter wondered what was happening.

"Today is the day that He will be born," a deep voice said. Peter didn't think that it was Dumbledore, though. What was going on? It continued. "He that is being born this very minute will be the downfall of the Dark Lord. The Wizarding World will be at peace for more than a decade, but the Dark Lord will not be done. When the Dark Lord comes to the Wizarding World again, more terrible than before, Father and Son must form a bond to banish the Dark Lord forever."

Peter was stunned. What was that? Was that a Prophecy? Was Trelawney the real thing? He backed away from the door quietly, but not before passing something that made him stop in his tracks before he went down the stairs. There, in a darkened corner that Peter hadn't noticed before, stood someone in black robes, looking at him. With dread filling him, Peter recognized Severus Snape, even though it had been years since they had seen each other. Snape was standing quite still, just looking back at him with glittering black eyes and a frown. Was Snape a Death Eater now? I wouldn't be surprised. What was he doing in the corner, there? Was he spying? And did he just hear the Prophecy? If so, then Peter was sure that Voldemort would be hearing about it that very day. Saying nothing to Snape, he hurried down the stairs, passed the gargoyle, and ran back out into the sun, dropping down unceremoniously onto the grass. He wondered who Trelawney had been speaking of. Surely, the Dark Lord was Voldemort. He would be in the Wizarding World twice? Peter shuddered. Once was enough. Even the thought of him sent chills down his spine. And the "He" that she had spoken of. Born today? "Father and Son" forming a bond to destroy Voldemort the second time for good? Who was the "He" that was being born right then?

And as if on cue, an owl caught his eye. A large tawny one-it was Cliodna, Sirius' owl that he had bought with his first pay that he had earned after school. She circled around once and landed on Peter's outstretched leg, and he untied the letter that was secured to her right limb as he let his other hand skate over the soft head and back. She nipped him and took off, and he opened the parchment.

Peter, you prat, get down here! Harry James Potter was born ten minutes ago, and James is crying like a baby. You have to see it! Dumbledore will understand. Hurry! I think Remus has tears in his eyes, too. And a hastily-scribbled, but still neater handwritten words under that. I do not have tears in my eyes! And James isn't crying, either. Sirius is just winding you up, Peter. But hurry here! Little Harry is so tiny! Peter smiled. Under that, one more short note. See that wet spot right next to this sentence, Peter? That's one of Remus' tears. Get over here, now! And it was signed by Sirius and Remus. Feeling giddy, Peter folded the note carefully and decided to just leave. Dumbledore WOULD understand.

But he had one more thought before he left for St. Mungo's. Harry had just been born about twenty minutes earlier, because the note would have only taken about ten minutes to arrive by owl. And Trelawney had been giving the prophecy about twenty minutes earlier. This meant...

Feeling a painful lump in his throat, Peter stood up. Voldemort was going to start coming after him again as soon as he left Hogwarts after the end of summer. The Death Eaters were going to start following Remus again, marking him, coercing him to join them. Peter had never been told directly by Remus, but he KNEW that they had already visited. More than once, in fact. Sirius and James were oblivious to it, but Peter knew. They have to leave him alone. He doesn't deserve... He knew that he had to find someone, or something, to deflect Voldemort's attentions off of Remus.

If someone told Voldemort about the prophecy, like Snape, then the Dark Lord would be anxious to find out who the "Father and Son" were that were going to be his downfall. Peter suspected that it just might become James and little Harry. What if, the next time Voldemort came to torture information about Remus' whereabouts out of him, he instead...

Oh James, thought Peter sadly as he Apparated to the front door of St. Mungo's. You're my friend, too, but when it comes between you and Remus... Peter walked in, inquiring about where his friends would be, and followed the signs. He entered Lily's room to find a tired Lily lying in bed, surrounded by a proud and in-awe James, a grinning Sirius, and a wistful Remus. Feeling another pang as Peter greeted them and leaned in to see a tiny person curled up in James' arms, with a shock of dark hair, wrinkled but clean, he felt incredibly guilty about what he knew he had to do. But it was between Remus and James, wasn't it? You never should have lied to me, James, he thought sadly. He took the offered baby carefully in his arms, looking down at the innocent child that he was also going to have to give up to save Remus' life. But once he handed back, he glanced over at his amber-eyed friend. Remus was holding the baby, now, looking down, and there WERE tears in his eyes. If they keep going after Remus, then he'll never have a chance for this. They'll pursue him and threaten him until they kill him.

Between Remus and James, and even Remus and this little innocent baby Harry, Peter knew which one deserved to be safe. I'm sorry, Harry, and I'm sorry James.


End file.
